Forgotten
by Inari Kasugawa
Summary: Based on a 2p!FrUk exchange on tumblr a while back. Character dialogue not mine, greyface dialogue not mine. Strong language.


Francis was _not_ uneasy. To be completely calm, though, when one's phone was figuratively "blown up" with messages that had a ring to them like someone trying to gently break the news of the death of a loved one was difficult. No, Francis was not uneasy, but certainly unsettled.

_What could the Greyfaces be on this time? Damn things can never be straightforward when it's important…_

They Greyfaces had indeed left out, in their hypothetical situations of being forgotten by loved ones, the actual reason why he needed so badly to visit Arthur and, while he was not normally of the inclination to blindly follow the frantic prodding's of the Greyfaces, something in his gut told him they weren't just being asinine brats this time. It wasn't until, on his way to visit Arthur that he was passed by the very person he was heading to see. Without a sideways glance, or even so much as acknowledgement of his presence, Arthur walked right by Francis. Not a single "Hey buddy!" or "How goes it chumpal?" The smile on Arthur's face was not aimed at him; it was like he didn't exist. "He, Sourcils!" He called, catching up with and seizing Arthur by the elbow. "I know you're not happy with me and all, but the cold shoulder? What gives—"Before Francis could continue the reprimand he believed Arthur deserved, the phone in his hand buzzed loudly, enough so to bring Francis' attention to the screen, and to the message on it. "Hnn?"

"_If you do end up going to Arthur's (which you likely will), be prepared to be very… confused…"_

"_France! Something is wrong with Bowtie!"_

"_Hey does everything that happened between you and Arthur in the past mean nothing to you? Do you even have any precious memories?"_

"_Are you sure it's good for him to forget about you? Cause I mean, even if you guys fight sometimes, he really cares for you and loves having you as a friend. Won't it hurt you if he forgets? I know I would be upset if someone who was my friend for so long just suddenly forgot me."_

Francis scrolled quickly through the other Greyface messages he hadn't bothered to read, looking them over more carefully this time. Scroll upon endless scroll of messages confirmed for Francis what he never would have thought could happen, not in the thousand years he'd known Arthur.

"_FRANCIS. STOP BEING ALL STUBBORN… HE LITERALLY MEANS THAT ARTHUR LOST HIS MIND. IT'S GONE. POOF. HE DOESN'T REMEMBER ANYONE."_

"_He probably doesn't recognize you anymore."_

"_HEEEE LOST HIS MIIIIINNNNND, AS INNNN….HE DOESN'T HAVE A MEMORYYYYY."_

"_I think Anon means he lost memories and doesn't know you~ :O"_

He didn't want to believe it. Obviously the Greyfaces had gotten together at one of their "Falling Down" meetsand smoked something together. Arthur couldn't possibly…

Arthur pulled out of Francis' shock loosened grip and backed away, arms raised defensively in front of him.

"Wh-whoa! Calm down with the language, mate! I'm not even sure about what you're talking about! Perhaps you're mistaken?"

Francis felt lightheaded for a moment, barely hearing Arthur mumble about a haircut. A combination of shock that the Greyfaces were right, and just what they had been right about left Francis momentarily speechless.

"Ah—Errr… Yes, it was a mistake you just… You just looked a lot like someone who's… disappointed in me… Sorry."

He turned away from Arthur, suddenly very self conscious of the look on his face. He sent the Greyfaces a thank you for the warning he didn't listen to.

"Ahh… I'll just get out of your hair. Sorry about that… Really."

He turned to leave, furiously embarrassed and… and something else he wasn't particularly willing to give a name to. Arthur really had just… forgotten him. It wasn't like Arthur to miss birthdays, or random Tuesdays from years ago, not if they were special to him. But he had forgotten Francis. He had forgotten decades and centuries and, heaven only knows Francis wasn't the sort to wax nostalgic about these kinds of things (that had always been Arthur's job), but he was having trouble reconciling himself to what he had lost, even if he wasn't entirely sure what to call what it was he knew was missing.

A hand placed tentatively on his shoulder stopped him from walking away.

"H-hey… wait…"

Maybe it had all been a joke?

"Are you alright? Do you need to talk it out? A silly haircut can wait! I just hate seeing someone so upset, you know?"

No, this wasn't a joke. Same old Arthur, bleeding heart Arthur, kind and patient Arthur. Just with none of the memories.

"It's nothing really. He's just got… a unique personality. Completely opposite of me. So I'm always messing up one way or another. I really don't know why he's stuck around as long as he has."

Francis looked at Arthur out of the corner of his eye, looking away just as quickly. There was zero sign of recognition on his face, just plain, honest sympathy.

"Well you know what they say! Opposites attract! If you've been friends for that long then surely a simple disagreement won't rattle that! He probably thinks you're swell, I bet! I mean, if he keeps sticking around, you must be a friend worth keeping!"

Francis clenched his hand around his phone, steadying himself. With a sigh he relaxed into a resigned-ness that he'd learnt over years of disappointments and hopeless situations. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it lightly as he pushed it from his face, the slight pain sobering an unwelcome welling of frustration.

"I really doubt that sometimes. It's probably for the best that he's keeping his distance now, you know? I'm not exactly the kind of guy people should want to get close to. I have a bad temper. I'm a bit of a killjoy… Among other things. It's better if he stays away now before I get another chance to hurt him."

He didn't deserve Arthur, he was trying to convince himself that this was probably the best thing for Arthur that he would get to make friends with people who weren't so self-centered, so pessimistic and moody. The bubbly, untroubled voice of the man next to him was still safe, safe from Francis' corrosive attitude. Francis felt a bit green, his stomach turning over as he thought about the state he'd left Arthur in after their last argument, one that the Greyfaces kept telling him was either his fault in conception or his responsibility to resolve or both. Now he wouldn't have the chance to apologize. Maybe that was for the best too?

"This friend sounds extremely important to you to be talking like that…"

Francis sighed, a cold _'you have no idea' _pierced straight though him, because Arthur really didn't know, not anymore.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were… smitten? Unless I'm wrong, of course…"

And just like that, warmth came to his cheeks. Even without his memory, Arthur could still read him like a book.

"Smitten? I- ahh… M-maybe."

"You're in love! You should tell him."

And down the rollercoaster Francis went again, brought down from the familiarity by harsh truth.

"But he's never coming back…"

"I knew it! I knew it! Hahaha how adorable oh gosh you have to go tell him and then and then it'll be cute and it'll be sweet and extravagant and romantic and smooching just like in the movies! And then you guys will live happily ever after— W-wait. _Never_? Why?! Was it because of the argument you mentioned? What happened?"

Francis could have laughed at the change in dynamic, at how easily Arthur still got carried away, at how very much Arthur was still completely Arthur, even without him.

"The fight… No… I…"

Francis tried to think of how to tell Arthur without… _telling_ him. He just seemed so… better, Francis couldn't think of where to start in telling Arthur that he had actually been important in his life and that it was no fair that Arthur had to forget him.

"Today, actually, I learned he had lost his memory… So even that… fight had been the last straw… Heh…"

It was entirely his fault. Francis, with his pushing away and his desperate clutching, his general imbalance had finally pushed Arthur over the edge. Francis was the reason Arthur couldn't remember anyone, all of the friends he'd made, all gone because of him. He felt a moisture in his eyes and tilted his head back slightly as he brushed it away.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to… Ahh… I should go…"

Even now, even with the total belief that it was all because of him, Francis drew Arthur into a quick embrace, even though he knew Arthur wouldn't know what an intimate gesture it was for Francis; it was his goodbye after all, it was all he would get.

"Thank you though, Arthur. Maybe we'll cross paths again sometime."

He didn't wait for Arthur to ask how he knew his name if they had never met before, he just let himself shut down, let his feet carry him home. He was just tired now. So tired.

_Where have I gone?_

_ I've forgotten the path_

_ and how I arrived there_

_ the night is calm_

_ but I feel the storm_

_ to sleepless nights._

Francis spent a lot of time, more than he would admit to himself, and certainly more than he would ever admit to the Greyfaces , thinking about Arthur, getting over Arthur. He was almost feeling normal again. Or so he was currently in the process of trying to convince himself. What was he before Arthur? He could barely remember a time in his life that Arthur hadn't been there. Arthur was part of his definition by now, people could hardly name him without Arthur following. No man is an island, and god how he was sick of that damn island. It was cathartic for him to spend his days writing poetry. Unfortunately, whenever he had written, he'd had an intended recipient, regardless of whether or not he ever sent it. There was a knock on his door one early afternoon and he balled up his latest attempt and threw it haphazardly to the floor where Pierre would no doubt find and dispose of it. When he opened the door, there he found the very last person he ever thought he would see again. Certainly opposites attracted, but this could be nothing more than looking for trouble. Francis prepared himself for an emotional exchange on Arthur's side, an attempt to console Francis again in his loss. But what Francis mistook for sympathy was actual understanding, guilt, _recognition_, and, after a moment of silence, Arthur moved forward and pressed his lips to Francis', a sad, apologetic gesture.

"Arth— Wait, what are you doing? You're not… Why are you here? Did you follow me? You're not Arthur anymore… You're…"

_Not _my _Arthur, at least._

Arthur's eyes welled up with those tears Francis hated and with a jolt he realized what had changed.

"I… r-remember now… _I'm sorry_…"

Arthur's voice was so choked with tears the words rasped and barely made it through.

"You remember?"

Francis felt a lump jump to his throat and didn't bother trying to wipe away the tears that came quickly to his eyes.

"Idiot."

There was no venom in Francis' voice, the scolding tone aimed at himself as he took Arthur up into his arms, pressed him close hiding his face in the crook of Arthur's neck as tears fell down his face, his mind and heart in too much of a whirr to name the reasons only that Arthur was here. _His _Arthur.

"I thought you were never coming back."

Arthur clung right back, clutching at Francis and crying as freely as he laughed in good times, his face red and his breath hiccoughing as he cried into Francis' shoulder, a litany of _"I'm sorry,"_ the only thing that Francis could hear from him.

"It's okay… You're fine."

Francis whispered, soothing Arthur's hair back, the familiar touch as much a reassurance to him as to Arthur as he fought to regain control over his tears and the racing of his heart.

"Just don't leave me like that again."

He gathered himself and invited Arthur inside, his fingers laced with Arthur's, a hold he was almost afraid to relinquish.


End file.
